A Past's Looking Glass: An Artist's Point Of View
by Coilerfan35
Summary: We all know Angela as the beautiful, spunky artist quick to add her two cents into any situation, and quick to push Booth and Brennan together. But even a woman so wily keeps her most important thoughts tucked deep in her mind.
1. Falling To Pieces

**An: So I was watching a fan video and it had the last scene of the finale this year to the song Airplanes, but it was only Hayley Williams' part and just watching Brennan's reaction kinda propelled me into this, and now that I think about it, I'm sure more of these moments are going to come through at some point, so I'm keeping this as a multi-chap. It's going to be a collection of one shots in Angela's point of view about different situations she sees between Booth and Brennan. Like I said, this one is about the Season 5 Finale.**

**Be Warned! Muse Ran Story! XD  
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With everything in life, there are the people who can see the greatest of happenstances, while others scoff and push it away; following their ground-in 'seeing is believing' personality, and sending the other person into oblivion._

_Sometimes that person is hurt, and sometimes that person is angry. If you tell it to someone you care about, and they push it of, you will always feel lost, and I feel that that is what I have done to her._

_We all put our two cents into the situation. Hell I have from the beginning, but now, all these years later, I finally see the error in my ways. Or maybe it's not so much an error as it is a consequence._

_I see the way she looks at him when she's feeling that spark, or that undeniable pressure in your chest that makes you want to throw yourself into a lover's embrace; and I see how it is quickly replaced with pain, before...emptiness. Rationality._

_And I know the way he looks at her, because I've been watching it for years. It is still new to her, because her perceptions only opened this year._

_I know that darkening of his eyes, but the softening in his features as if to place all who he is; brute burdened soldier; right in front of her to exam, so that maybe she'll bust down her walls and offer her vulnerable self to him._

_He doesn't want her in bed; per say; and he defiantly doesn't want to hurt her, he just wants to show her how a woman can feel when a man is truly and utterly, head over heels, soaring over the moon; in love with her._

_And for so long I have been witness to this dance, this pure unadulterated torture, that I fight the urge to push them together when I know the time is right. Because I know when the time is right._

_His lips will open and he'll whisper something to her that completely shatters her protection of herself, and calms her as if God was telling her the path to eternal happiness. Then her eyes will sparkle, and her heart will pulse louder than normal, but at first she won't care. They'll glance at each other's lips and their minds will work until they completely shut down, but they shut down in either two ways; but so far in their relationship, one way is favored._

_Their hearts, minds, bodies, and souls will tell them to fall together, to just screw everything else and worry only about themselves in that single moment, but then they'll step back and for the first time in their lives think before they act._

_He'll say to himself that she is his partner, and that she is his best friend; a best friend that can't be pushed the way he is pushing her. He'll say that he doesn't want her to leave, and so he won't do it, if only to keep her around for a little while longer._

_While at the same time her genius mind is reeling, the alarms ringing as she goes into lock down and all of the doors seal off. She'll say almost the same thing; that he is her partner, and her best friend, and that she doesn't want him to leave, but instead of being afraid of pushing him too far, she's afraid she herself will propel him away; as far away as similar magnetic poles in two magstars._

_I see how dependent they are on each other, but I also see how much that hurts each other, and when I sit and think about these two beautiful people it makes me sad to think that they will NEVER be happy until they are together._

_But that will never happen until they themselves, figure out this game and simultaneously lean forward when that moment is right…when the thumping in their hearts is strong, their eyes are fleeting, their skin is prickling, and their lips are parted to take in labored breaths and prepare for a passionate kiss that might shatter everything good in their happiness deprived lives._

"Everything has to be bad, before it's ever good."

"What'd you say Angie?" Hodgins asked from the kitchen, stepping out into the living room and frowning at his wife's sad expression. "Are you okay?"

"Everything has to be bad, before it's good," she repeated, her brown eyes meeting the bright blue eyes of her husband. "Right?"

"Um, yeah," he nodded, smiling and moving to sit beside the thoughtful artist. "I think we're a perfect example of that."

Angela sighed and shook her head, reaching for the calming hand of the love of her life, before she settled her head on his shoulder and melted into his hold around her. "I wish something could just…guide them into realizing that."

Ever since Angela had been able to talk to Brennan while she was in Maluku she had been acting like this; bringing everything that she had seen between the two partners and placing them in a mental chronology; coming to the conclusion of how sad everything was. Angela had said again and again that her best friend looked so frail, and pale despite being out in the sun for hours on end. She pointed out that Brennan wasn't as lively about these ancient remains as she had been for others, and when Hodgins tried to say she was probably exhausted, she shook her head and insisted it had to do with Booth.

She knew he wasn't dead, and that he was safe on base, but that apparently didn't seem to mean anything to Brennan, and she insisted that her friend looked so horrible because she really didn't have a life anymore.

"He was her life Jack," she had whispered one night, a stray tear falling from her eye. "And I knew this was a bad idea from the beginning. What about Booth? This has to be killing him. What if he doesn't pay attention and not being able to see Brennan gets him killed?"

"The man is a sniper," Hodgins had insisted, holding tight to his wife's hands like he did every night. "Even with everything Dr. B. threw at him over the years the man never lost a step. He would never get hurt over there in Afghanistan because his main mission is to live, if it is only to wrap his arms around her one last time."

"Bleeding from the heart, he would get to her somehow," the artist whispered, quickly brushing tears from her eyes before leaning over to wrap her arms around Hodgins. "I'll be in the loft painting if you need me."

But this night, she didn't run into her painting sanctuary, and decided she would rather settle into the warmth provided by the man she loved so much, and for the first night in a month she let him see every single tear that poured from her eyes.

"I just want to see them happy," she insisted, smiling softly as his fingers ran through her hair.

"I know you do Angie, and one day they will be."

"But when will that be?"

"When their epitomal paths collide, and science is completely forgotten in a single act of overwhelming love and passion."

"How poetic," Angela muttered sarcastically, smiling and laughing softly at the look she shared with Hodgins.

"Yeah, way too romantic for me," he whispered, reaching up and brushing his fingers against her cheek. "But it did get you to smile."

She smiled again and reached up to intertwine her fingers with his, bringing his hand into her lap. "Have you seen any of the paintings I've done in the past month?"

"No. I respect your privacy."

"I painted something last night, when I woke up from this dream that I want you to see."

Hodgins didn't know what to expect, but when they climbed the winding stair case into the loft, his breath was taken away from him as his eyes glanced over all of the beautiful and colorful paintings littered around the room.

"Angela, these are beautiful," he whispered, moving to a clutter of canvases and glancing to a picture that showed only a woman's hand indented into her lover's back.

"Those are horrible," Angela quickly retaliated, nodding to a large painting covered in a tarp. "This is my beauty."

"Well if you think these suck, this is going to give the Mona Lisa a run for its money," Hodgins assured, smiling and kissing her cheek softly.

She simply smiled and pulled away the tarp, crossing her arms over her chest as her eyes roamed over her piece.

She painted it with a different style; the movements soft and defined like a photographed portrait instead of a painting. The woman and the man had their foreheads pressed together, her hair darkened to an almost black and wavy from earlier rain. She was wearing black and her porcelain skin shined against the contrast, her eyes lowered as her hand was settled against the lapels of her lover's white shirt, soaked to skin. His arms were wrapped tight around her, her back curving at the pressure, but the emotion in her face showed she truthfully didn't care and that his man, her white knight, her angel, was all she was focused on.

"It looks exactly like them," Hodgins whispered, reaching out to brush his fingers against the dried paint.

"I didn't mean it to end up that way, but somehow it did and it turned out beautiful."

"You should show it to them."

"I've done enough pushing," Angela quickly retaliated, smiling and shaking her head. "Maybe I'll just, hide this in my office, and take a look at it when I get down, and maybe one of them will just happen to walk in at that moment."

"Her ring even looks like Brennan's."

"Those two just bled through," she whispered, smiling and setting her tarp on a chair. "But now that I look at it, I don't think any other couple could bring forth the meaning behind the black and white contrast I used."

"You have a very good point Angie. Maybe if they ever get together you could get a similar shot in real life and then show them."

Angela smiled and nodded, reaching over and brushing her fingers against the nape of his neck. "I'll look forward to that."


	2. I Can See Angels

**An: So my Muse is kicking some serious ass today because I didn't think that I was going to update this ANY time soon. I blame it...no THANK the fan videos, because the first one was an Airplanes fan video, and this one was a fan video made to the song Walking Behind by The Moffatts. And I've seen it time and time again, but I haven't watched it for a while, and when I finally looked it up, the ending scene with Brennan placing her head on Booth's shoulder at the end of The Pain In The Heart just struck this up. :) Muse is in good standing!**

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Booth…_

_The name can mean many things to many different people._

_To some people, it is the last name of a man hated by ever patriotic person living in the United States; the same man that murdered one of the single best presidents this nation has ever seen…_

_To others, it could be a common name of a person you knew or not…_

_And to even more, it is a cozy haven loved by many that walk into a restaurant._

_But to me, every time I here that five letter word I think of so many things, none of them bad._

_I think of a hero, a soldier, a man so passionate and willing to sacrifice his life for another human being he had never met before. He is a protector, a warrior, a guardian angel searching for that one person that he will wake up to protect, and go to bed worrying about. He is charming, and caring, and sweet if you're on his good side, but like everything else in the universe, there is a darker side not necessarily seen. His eyes can hold black darker than coal, and his voice can hold a poison that would make a cobra shrivel in fear; if you get in the way of his eternal mission._

_He is a man that can hold a person in the softest of embraces, while at the same time glare daggers at a threat that clearly pulled the words 'Back Off' from thin air._

_But this angel, this protector, this hero; he is a white knight stained black, with a darkened past and a burdened heart that he will only let few select people see._

_Anyone who can read, can find out that he is a sniper, or that he's in the FBI, so therefore they know he has killed, but so many people have family members in and out of the military that have killed before, and they've never seen any sort of first hand emotion towards the matter._

_Never in my life had I seen this man cry, but I know she has._

_They're symbiotic. She's wild and crazy and craves independence that it's amazing she hasn't killed herself yet. But maybe that's because he came into her life, and instantly knew that his life wasn't his anymore…it was her second life, or third, or fourth. He was her redo card, her single plank that helped her cross the last leg of the bridge onto the other side of life._

_But anyone can stand up in front of a bullet, and use their own flesh, blood, bones and muscles to save the life of a person. The physical isn't always that spectacular. It's the emotional that is amazing, and awing._

_When I first became friends with this woman I thought 'Temperance Brennan doesn't cry. She isn't overcome by silly emotions such as sadness. She is an amazing woman made of steel and gold that can NEVER be broken.' but after he walked into her life, I found out that I was as wrong about that, as I was about everything else._

_I knew for sure, that Brennan wasn't the type of girl to come running to me in the time of a crisis, tears streaming down her face as she poured her heart out to me, asking me for help; and for a rare time in my life I was right about that._

_Only once had I ever seen a tear fall from that woman's eye, and that was when that doctor, blood stained and hollow eyed, stepped from the threatening swinging doors, and whispered that he didn't make it…that the molded half of Brennan's seemingly whole life had been ripped out from under her._

_It was a single drop, shimmering like crystal down the side of her face before she wordlessly walked off, and we heard her car peel out of the parking lot minutes later._

_But even though I've only seen one single tear come from this woman, I knew he has seen plenty, and that he was the one to wipe them clean._

_When she would be sad, or burdened after a case, somehow he would always appear at her side, obviously worrying profusely about her, and unable to sit around any longer. He would find her sitting alone in her office, or upstairs in the lounge, or god knows where else, and some how he would always bring a smile to her face._

_He would wrap his arms around her, comfort her, and assure her that she is everything that she sees and more, and the words will echo in her mind, as they do in mine…_

'_I miss that…someone worrying where you are all the time.'_

_I believe in religious practices, and I'm always open to try and connect to an unseen force higher than myself, but never in my entire life, did I think I would lay my eyes on a real, live angel._

_It just so happens, his wings are hidden._


	3. Beautiful But Naive

**An: Cute little something I whipped together after I watched Aliens In The Spaceship. Also, this can be a little 'welcome home' chappy for my lovely friend divine529.**

**So, welcome home Katie! :)  
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I can hear those two words, and images fly before my eyes. That name of the single person we all hate the most, and everything comes rushing back. The fear, the sorrow, the tears, the overwhelming feeling of helplessness; it all comes back in a single wave, drowning me in everything I try so hard to forget._

_My best friend could have died that day. The man I love could have died right beside her, and years later, the strongest man I know; the man that holds my best friend's heart in his hands could have been next._

_I thank God, that we were all able to change that._

_The memories scare me, and once the trial for that heartless bitch rolled around, her mere presence made them all stick. I watched and heard the cracking in everyone's voice as that fear returned._

_And like three years before, I still see the determination in that man's eyes._

_I always see his brown eyes full of caring, and life, and adoration; or I see them darkened in hatred, but when it came to this monster, I saw a whole different kind of black._

_The Grave Digger made this man prepare for war._

_His eyes would harden, and there would be no brown left, only black; all black. He would stand rigid and tall; like a stone wall trying to protect everyone from any sort of pain. His eyes would dart to Brennan; trying to make sure she was okay, trying so hard to make her always feel okay._

_The sight was beautiful; like a beautiful flower poking up through the ash of despair and terror._

_I remember the day after Hodgins and Brennan were saved, and I remember walking into her office in the morning, wrapping her tight in my arms despite any of her protests. I told her how much I loved her, and how glad I was that she was safe._

_Her smile was broken, the fear still there, but I could see the repair in her eyes. Like a little abuse child being taken into the caring home she had been craving for. She had activated one of her old cell phones, and the device made a small chirping noise before the picture of a letter flashed on the screen._

_Opening the phone we both recognized Booth's number, and a small smile broke her lips when she opened the message, and six simple words seemed to brighten her day._

'_Call me if you need me.'_

"_He's a good man," Brennan whispered, her voice holding so much emotion it sounded foreign to me. Her eyes were wide, and enlightened, with tears settling just under her eye lids._

"_He took you home last night right?" I asked, smiling when she lowered her eyes and nodded; a soft sniffle emitting from her nose. "What happened?"_

_A single tear rolled down her pale cheek, but her smile wasn't sad. She was touched. She took my hand and walked around her desk, guiding us both to her couch, where she sat and leaned back, her cell phone held tight in her hand._

_The story she told me, brought a smile to my lips every time I looked into the agent's protection hardened eyes._

"Booth, I promise you, I'm fine," she argued, unlocking her door and taking a step inside. The familiar setting provided comfort and relief that she didn't expect; and a small smile broke across her lips before he made his way into her apartment and closed the door behind them.

"Bones, you were buried alive. You were steps away from death. Even you can't be fine," he retaliated, making his way into her kitchen in a search for alcohol.

"The only beer I have is the Moroccan beer you don't like."

"It tastes like earwax!"

"No it doesn't."

"Yes it does. You should have warned me before we got here, I would have stopped and got some good beer," Booth muttered, taking his suit jacket off and placing it on the back of one of her chairs.

"Booth, you don't have to stay here," Brennan muttered, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm not going to do anything. I'm just going to take a very long shower and go to bed. I'll be fine. I am fine."

"Please," the single plead was a whimper, and a stabbing feeling took place in her chest. "Please, Bones. Just, let me stay here. Let me take care of you because I assure you I'm not fine."

She could see the slight twitch in his arms before he crossed them over his chest and tensed his muscles. She assumed he wanted to hug her, but didn't want to pressure her or make her uncomfortable.

"Booth, why aren't you fine?" she asked softly, stepping closer to him and tilting her head. "I'm here, I'm alive. What else is bothering you?"

"You shouldn't have been taken in the first place," he demanded, his voice hard but shaky. "There should have been security cameras in that parking garage or I should have taken you to karate. I was there seconds before you left Bones. I should've…I should have…"

"Hey," Brennan stopped him, stepping forward and resting her hand softly on his arm. "Stop that. This isn't your fault."

"How is it not Bones? It's my job to protect you. It's my job to make sure you're safe, and I failed. Miserably."

"Booth, had I been in the field with someone else, I assure you, they wouldn't be as tolerant with me as you have been and I would be dead by now," she whispered, pulling his arms away from him and wrapping her own around his neck in a tender hug. "You've saved my life countless times already; don't ever think that you're failing. At anything."

His arms were crushing as they circled her, and pulled her body flush to his. She felt his chest quiver and the silent tears that fell onto her neck. She closed her eyes and tightened her hold around him, pressing her forehead against the crook of his neck while her breathing wavered and her hands started shaking.

He was reluctant to pull away, but slowly he did, quickly passing the back of his hand over his eyes and bringing his fingers to the bare skin revealed by her shirt. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his fingers brushing up and collecting the moisture his tears had provided; the dirt still on her skin cleared in small trails. "But thank you."

She didn't trust her voice and simply nodded her head. "Give me a couple minutes and I'll make up the guest bedroom for you."

"That's alright," he pushed off, knowing that he wasn't going to be doing any sleeping at all tonight. "Just, do what you have to."

"Okay," she whispered, stepping backwards and looking him over fleetingly before completely turning and walking into her bedroom.

She took her shower and slid on shorts and an old t-shirt of hers before she walked into the living room, and found him sitting on her couch, staring forward at nothing.

"Are you sure you don't want me to-"

"No," he interrupted, smiling at her softly before returning his gaze to nothingness "I'm okay."

"Alright. Well, good night, Booth."

"Sweet dreams Bones."

But as she thought, she wasn't awarded that luxury, and found herself sitting up in her bed at two in the morning, panting, sweating, and shaking. Standing up, she stumbled towards the hall, walking out to find Booth in the exact same spot, his eyes still trained towards her wall.

"Booth…"

"Did you have a nightmare?"

"Ye-…yeah. How did you know?"

"I knew you were going to have at least one," he reasoned, motioning her towards him.

She moved closer and sat next to him, rubbing her tired eyes as she leant forward on her knees. "I'm exhausted."

He smiled and pulled one of the couch pillows from beside him, placing it on his lap. Giving her a stern look, she finally relented, knowing that she wasn't going to be able to sleep in the first place without him soothing her somehow.

Curling her knees, she rested her head against the soft pillow, her eyes closing as he pulled a blanket over her and rested his hand on her shoulder, his thumb working against the soft fabric that brushed lovingly against her skin.

"'_Sleep Bones' he whispered. 'I'll be your dream catcher for tonight.'"_

"_That's beautiful Brennan," I muttered, smiling and resting my hand reassuringly on her arm. "Don't knock a knight in shining, FBI standard issue body armor."_

"_I really didn't know he cared that much."_

"_He cares too much for his own good sweetie," I confessed, smiling and hugging her again before I stood and made my way back to my office. "Such a beautiful relationship, such naïve people."_


	4. A Step In The Right Direction

**An: I haven't updated this forever, and I'm not really sure how I feel about this...at least I don't in the beginning, I like the ending...sorta. Maybe I don't know at all. XD I don't know at all. Lol!**

**Twit Shit: twitter(dot)com(slash)alexosaurus**

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I could see the darkness within her eyes. I could hear the uncertainty in her words. I could notice that something just wasn't right, but I also noticed that she never really wanted to talk about it.

No matter how many times I talked to her in the day, she always kept her words diverted from the personal. She never wanted to tell someone that something was wrong. She never wanted to ask for help. All she ever wanted, was to be left alone.

"Brennan," I whispered finally, standing in the door of her office with my hands settled on my rounding stomach. "I have to talk to you."

"What is it Ange?" she asked, turning the gaze that accompanied the frown that curled her lips. I was sick of that frown. I couldn't remember the last time I had seen my best friend's beautiful smile.

"I'm concerned," I stated, moving to one of the chairs in front her desk, before I settled into the seat, and sat back easily. "I need to say a few things to you, and I need to be able to do so without being interrupted or pushed away. Are you able to do that for me?"

"I suppose Angela, but what is this about?"

"It's about everything, Sweetie."

"Well that is very vague."

I couldn't help my short bark of a laugh. I could predict her words these days. I was heading into realms she considered personal, and already she was shutting down, and shutting me out. "Well, I'm sorry Bren, but it's true. Everything has been off with you, and like I said it's scaring me. You aren't yourself anymore, you...you're just a shell."

"That's impossible Angela," she replied with a laugh, turning her eyes from my own and to her computer; suddenly becoming interested with the picture on her desktop. "I couldn't become a 'shell' unless I was dead and gutted of all of my internal organs."

"You're being too literal Sweetie. I mean personally. It seems that you just go through the motions of living, and don't actually live. And then you go out doing something dangerous to try and make yourself feel. I know you hate psychology, and don't worry, you know I hate people assuming they know what I'm thinking, but seriously...Bren, you throw yourself at danger every chance you get. You went to the worst part of town at three o'clock in the morning in the pouring rain, and ALMOST got ran over," there was tension within my throat as I spoke, and silently I cursed both her and the hormones racing through my blood. My tears for her had run frequently in the past months, and I finally grew sick of mourning for someone who only appeared to be 'dead'.

Her eyes met mine, and once again I saw the pain within them. Without speaking she was begging me to stop...begging me to let her live in the safe numbness she had cultivated. "Angela..."

"No, Brennan. You need someone to actually bring this into the light. You need help."

"You make it sound like I'm clinically insane."

"Well, truthfully we're all pretty damn close," I muttered, smiling softly when I was able to retract a small laugh from her. "But Sweetie, please just..talk to me. I can't bear to see you this sad much longer."

"Angela, talking isn't going to make the sadness go away," she whispered, her hands working quickly in her lap. "Talking will only make it...real."

"It needs to be real Sweetie. It needs to be real, or else it'll never get better."

I felt accomplished when I saw resolve cross her face, and I felt a small weight lift from my shoulders when she rested back in her chair, and crossed her arms over her chest. I could tell she felt vulnerable, and didn't want to have this conversation, but I was thankful she was able to break through those barriers and decided to give talking a chance.

"I was told earlier this month that...we don't fear death," she began, her voice small and unsure. "That, we simply fear what we leave in our wakes. Angela...I'm scared. No, I'm terrified. If I died tomorrow, what would my impact be? What would I be remembered for? I...I don't want to just disappear. I...I wish I was more than what I am. I want to be missed when I die. I want people to be sad that I'm gone. I don't want to be forgotten."

"Sweetie," my mouth was agape, and tears were reaching my eyes. I pitied her, and wanted nothing more than to hug her and hope that made everything better, but we both knew that it wasn't my arms she wanted around her. "You're crazy if you think that you don't matter. If you die tomorrow, which I pray you don't, I can assure you, your grave would be surrounded with people. Think of all the cases you have solved. Remember all the people you have returned to their families. For those grieving families, you gave them justice...without you, they would have been reduced to simply wondering what happened to the people they loved."

"I know this sounds selfish, Angela, but I don't care about them. I do in a sense that I love my job, and that every person who ever thinks that taking another life will solve anything deserves to be locked away from society...but what about the people I see every day? Sure, you guys would be there because I'm your friend but...what would I really be remembered for? Intelligent, driven, surrounded by work?"

"Beautiful, passionate, caring," I furthered, looking to her and knowing that it wasn't the squints she was worried about. "Brennan, you're an amazing woman. Sure, most people know you as a hyper-rational, super smart scientist and famous author, but we all know you more than that. We've seen you cry, and we've watched you reach your dreams. We've helped you through the tough times in your life, and you've helped us through ours. We love you, dearly, and you ARE clinically insane if you think otherwise."

"Not all of you," she argued on a whisper, her intentions finally reaching open air.

"You miss him don't you?" I asked, leaning forward and reaching out to grasp her unusually cold hand.

"For some reason...yes. I see him almost every day, but...I miss him. I don't understand why I do, but I do."

"Because before he left for Afghanistan," I started, still with a lump clogging my throat. "And before he came back with Hannah, he was yours, and you were his. I know you think that you are your own person, and you belong only to yourself, but...it's that thinking that has made you into this. If you think that no one can have you, then you're never going to make the impact you want to make."

"I missed my chance Angela," I saw the tear fall from her eye, but her free hand was quick, and she brushed it away within a couple seconds. "I find I am...hopeless when I think of the situation. And...thinking...knowing that nothing is going to happen, hurts so much worse than just being turned away. It's that hopelessness that keeps my sadness from disappearing."

"And you can't get rid of hopelessness," I finished, knowing and understanding completely the words that left her mouth. A soft laugh left my lips, and I squeezed her hand when I saw the look in her eyes that could only be labeled as offended. "It's funny. You're not speaking like you usually do, but when you speak like this I finally understand you."

"If you understand me...then what should I do?" she asked, her hand propping up her chin as she diverted her gaze to the blotter under her elbows. "It kills me seeing him almost every day, and remembering how we used to be. I was scared when he asked me to...to be with him, but, now I just wish...he was mine again."

"I understand that. I felt that way when Hodgins and I broke up."

"But, what about Roxy?"

"Sweetie, Hodgins and I are a lot like you and Booth. Our relationship was very passionate and meaningful. When we broke up it hurt, and it hurt even more seeing him every day and remembering how everything used to be. Even when I started dating again, I was still friends with Hodgins, and the memories we made never went away. In my mind we were dynamic. He was it. And now...here we are...married and awaiting the birth of our first hellion."

A smile rose to her lips, and I watched as her mind retracted from our conversation. I could see in her eyes that she was imaging her and Booth in the same situation, and I couldn't help but smile like a complete idiot when I saw the soft blush touch her cheeks. "See, Sweetie...that is something to hope for."

"But...what if my hope is useless? What if it never happens?"

"It'll happen," I assured, tugging on her hand so she was standing. I moved around her desk, and brought her into my arms; holding her tightly. "I know you think it won't...since there is someone else...but think about the last seven years. Hannah can't compare to you Sweetie. She's nowhere close. You know Booth better than he knows himself, and that'll matter in the future. When he's scared, or when he needs help...when he needs someone to lean on, he's going to come to you. You've seen him scar for scar, and that'll mean something to him. Don't think that he has forgotten you. You have a history that many married couples wished they had, and because of that history...it'll be hard to forget what has materialized."

"And...what has materialized, Angela?" she asked, moving away from me and wrapping her arms around herself. I could tell the truth felt surreal to her, and I was sure that surrealism scared her, and brought all sorts of unsure thoughts to her mind.

"We both know that answer Sweetie," I said simply, shrugging a shoulder as my hand slid into the pockets of my lab coat."But, I'm not the one who has the right to voice it out loud."

Her smile was small, but in my eyes it was shining. Her eyes were bright, and the sadness had disappeared. Her hope had returned, and the tension in her shoulders had dissolved. She wasn't happy, but she was content, and that was a step in the right direction.


End file.
